school hasn’t hired a basketball coach? Practice starts soon, and you’re filling in?”
Oh, now Hope understood the reason for the conference request. “Mr. Geary did hire someone, but he quit right before school started, and Mr. Geary couldn’t find a replacement. I’m the only teacher here who played ball in high school.”
“I see.”
“So do I, Mrs. Mitchell. Wade is an excellent player and he deserves a better coach.”
“Well, that sounds embarrassingly rude, but … yes. You see, he has a complicated situation at home. If I share the story with you, may I have your word that you will be discreet with the information?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, then.” She exhaled a heavy breath. “I am squarely in the middle here, and I feel like I’m betraying my husband by doing this, but … Wade wants to go to college. He and I believe that the only way to make it happen is for him to earn an athletic scholarship.”
“Colleges offer financial aid, Mrs. Mitchell. I’m sure—”
“The money isn’t the problem. Well, it’s part of it, but Wade’s biggest stumbling block is his father. He doesn’t want Wade to go to college. He doesn’t see the need for it. Frankly, the idea scares him half to death because of something that happened in the past.”
She went on to explain that her husband was fighting for all he was worth to save the family ranch. “It’s his legacy, it’s Wade’s legacy, and my husband thinks Wade can learn everything he needs to know by working the ranch.”
“Wade doesn’t want to be a rancher?”
“No, that’s what is making this tricky. If he didn’t want to be a rancher, he could defy his father and go off and pursue whatever dreams he has. But he loves the ranch and he wants a future in ranching. He just wants to go to college first. He wants that experience before coming home and settling down, but my husband is afraid to let him go. You see, my husband has been down that road before. His much younger brother—who was more of a son to him than a sibling—went off to college and never returned to Storm Mountain. He won’t admit it, but that broke my husband’s heart.”
“I can understand that,” Hope said, sympathy washing through her. “What I don’t understand is why a basketball scholarship would be different from an academic scholarship to him.”
“I won’t claim that this whole thing makes sense because it’s all based on emotions rather than logic. It’s different to David if one is recruited rather than applying.”
“All right, then. What assistance are you looking for from me?”
Again, Darla Mitchell inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled loudly. “I want to do what is best for both my son and my husband. As the team leader this year, you can be Wade’s advocate. I’m not trying to be rude, but someone with my son’s raw talent needs someone with the knowledge and experience to develop it. I can’t hire or even request a private coach. It would cause too much dissension in the family. But, as this year’s coach, you can bring someone on to help the team. I know that Gabi Romano played college ball. She shot baskets with Wade at the fund-raiser last week. Sheriff Turner played college basketball, too, so he could help if he could find time, though I know he has his hands full running the sheriff’s department. Then, of course, there is Coach Romano.”
She said it like “There is the Holy Grail.”
This time Hope was the one releasing a sigh. “I’m with you, Mrs. Mitchell. Both Principal Geary and I have been thinking in that same direction. He told me just this morning that he spoke to Zach and Gabi over the weekend. They’ve agreed to help as their schedules allow. As far as Lucca Romano goes … that’s tougher.”
“Wade saw him dunk the ball Friday night. He hasn’t stopped talking about it since.”
Hope had watched the boys’ basketball team play last year, and she knew that Wade was a talented player. “Lucca claims to be retired from coaching. I believe he is firm in that decision.”
“Maybe if we couched it in terms other than coaching? Consulting, perhaps? If Zach and Gabi can help with Wade’s fundamentals, and maybe get their brother Tony to visit for a private coaching clinic for Wade, then maybe Coach Lucca Romano could advise you on what Wade needs to do to catch the notice of scouts and recruiters?”
“Maybe.” Hope thought it over. Wade’s mother had a point. Who knew what Lucca would think of the proposal? Maybe it would be just the sort of thing he needed to ease back into that part of his life. “I certainly don’t see what it would hurt to ask. Heaven knows, I can use all the help I can get.”
“Thank you, Ms. Montgomery.”
“Hope. Please, call me Hope.”
“It’s a fitting name. I’m sorry to put you in the middle of family business, but I justify it because it’s part of a coach’s job to advocate for her players. However, I’m not a helicopter parent. No matter what happens from this point on, I give you my word that this is the last you will hear from me on this topic.”
“I will do my best to help Wade. I agree that it is part of my job. I’m glad you came to me, and, please, don’t hesitate to contact me about any concerns you may have in the future.”
Hope made small talk with Wade’s mother as she escorted her to the school office where she signed out of the building. A glance at the wall clock told her she had just enough time to stop by her classroom to grab a jacket and her sack lunch, and then duck into the cafeteria and purchase a bag of chips for Lucca.
She arrived at the courtyard to find him already there.
“Just the top row. It’ll save your janitor quite a bit of time. He needs a step stool to reach it.” He gathered up his cleaning supplies, used a bottle of water to rinse his hands, then wiped them with the rag from his pocket while Hope set out their lunch.
“The weather is colder now than it was earlier,” she observed as she set out the chips. “This courtyard is nice because it’s sheltered from the wind. I heard we have a chance for snow later this afternoon.”
“I don’t know that I’m ready for snow,” he said. “Are those Cheetos I see?”
“And Fritos and pretzels and potato chips. I wasn’t sure of your junk food preference, so I bought some of each.”
“Love ’em all.” He lifted his long legs over the bench of the picnic table and sat. “Thanks. So, carrot sticks aside, you’re not one of those food-police types?”
“Not at all. I scored brownies for both of us in the cafeteria. They’re not as good as what Sarah bakes, but they’re not bad, either.”
“Excellent.”
He took a bite of sandwich, nodded his approval, then observed, “This is a nice little spot. I’m surprised it’s not overrun with students.”
“Access is restricted to faculty and staff. It’s our refuge, our little garden of tranquillity. I have a later lunch than the other teachers due to my half-day kindergarten, so I almost always have it to myself.”
“I’m glad, because I figure this conversation is better done in privacy.” He pinned her with a steady green- eyed stare. “So, tell me why you planned to visit me this afternoon.”
Hope looked down at her sandwich and felt her cheeks warm with a blush. “What … no easing into this?”
“I don’t know how much time you have for lunch.”
She twisted her mouth ruefully and then popped a grape into it to give her a moment to collect her thoughts. Its sour taste made her pucker. “I wanted to apologize to you for sneaking out of your house Sunday morning. That wasn’t well done of me.”
“Apology accepted.” He reached for one of her carrot sticks and bit into it with a crunch. While she frowned at him—hadn’t he claimed carrots sticks to be a deal breaker?—he studied her. He came to some sort of decision, because he nodded once and said, “I owe you an apology too, Hope. You were obviously upset and if I’d been a gentleman, I would have put the brakes on things.”
“I didn’t go looking for a gentleman, Lucca. I went looking for escape.”
